


a small rebellion

by AccioInvisibilityCloak



Series: Femslash February 2019 Ficlets [1]
Category: Lovely Little Losers, Nothing Much to Do
Genre: Autumn, Cross-Posted on Tumblr, F/F, Femslash February, Femslash February 2019, Fluff, Holding Hands
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-03
Updated: 2019-02-03
Packaged: 2019-10-21 17:57:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17647226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AccioInvisibilityCloak/pseuds/AccioInvisibilityCloak
Summary: Meg didn’t expect to ever feel again the bubbly, over-excited sensation of being a thirteen-year-old holding hands with her crush for the first time. It’s still momentous, but it’s different. There are a lot of things that are different, now that the hand she wants to hold is Freddie’s.





	a small rebellion

**Author's Note:**

> Prompted by @flowersandstarlight on tumblr! Thanks! :)

***

       Meg didn’t expect to ever feel again the bubbly, over-excited sensation of being a thirteen-year-old holding hands with her crush for the first time. It’s still momentous, but it’s different. There are a lot of things that are different, now that the hand she wants to hold is Freddie’s.

It’s not like they’re new to physical contact- the two of them cuddle and kiss and laugh together in the safety of Freddie’s flat or Meg’s room at Vegan Fred’s house all the time, and she loves that. It just makes it harder when they’re not at home. Meg is new at this, and it makes her sick that she’s even worried, but you never know who’s watching, when you’re a girl in love with a girl in public.  
Questioning was hard, but so is walking down a leafy autumn street with her girlfriend, hands shoved into her jumper pockets, itching to reach out. Regretting her lack of forethought at not bringing a thicker jacket for an outdoor concert and wishing for the simplicity of Freddie sharing a coat or her arms to warm Meg up again. Every touch a risk, a little bitterness towards all the straight people who don’t have to reckon with their own shame and the world’s darkness just to take their partner’s hand. It’s this dissonance: she’s always been fine with PDA, always been glad to show off her happiness, always been afraid to show the fullness of her truth.

She’s tired of fear.

       Meg reaches out, one of those days when they’re walking across campus, heading home for date night. The autumn wind flows past them, ruffling Freddie’s hair, making her smile, drawing Meg in. She wants to touch that soft red hair, brush it back out of Freddie’s eyes. She wants to just be touching her, already.

Freddie’s hands are bare, flushed pink with cold, swinging at her sides. Meg reaches out, and a single soft brush of skin on skin sends a tingle of pure, sweet, middle-school joy down her spine. She just brushed hands with the girl she likes, and something significant has changed.

Freddie turns to her with big, round eyes, grinning in that nervous way she gets when she’s doing something wonderful against her anxiety’s will. She twines her index finger around Meg’s, inviting, encouraging. Meg throws caution to the wind and grabs her hand, fully entwining their fingers, the autumn cold quickly replaced by glowing warmth.

It’s a victory, a small rebellion. They walk home, safe and warm, holding hands all the way.

***


End file.
